


Interstellar Bitch

by some_mad_lunge



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Friendship goals, Gen, Lots of alcohol, Sarcastic Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 15:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_mad_lunge/pseuds/some_mad_lunge
Summary: Alex Manes doesn’t have a lot of friends right now, and Isobel Evans doesn’t have any. Alcohol can fix that.





	Interstellar Bitch

Alex had always leaned more towards having women as friends, that is after Kyle had disowned him before high school. Suddenly he was without a best friend in the shark infested waters that was public education.. Thankfully Maria, with her kind heart and Liz with her keen eyes that missed nothing, welcomed him with open arms. He wasn’t as free spirited or as studious as either of them, but it worked. He never thought of it as a “gay cliche”, it was just nice. 

He grew up in a house that suffocated him with male testosterone. No one wanted to listen to his ideas or hear his music. No one wanted to know him. Honestly, Alex thought his Dad would like him more if he just whipped out his dick and measured it, gave him something tangible to prove his son was a Manes man.

Maria and Liz (and Michael), they’d been the bright spots in this town. The escape from home and the loneliness, the white noise that cancelled out the voice in his head that made sure he knew he’d never be good enough.

He’d left them behind but he’d never forgotten. Emails and texts, you grow up and people fall away. Overseas he learned how to be friends with men, not needing to posture up, to prove he could give a punch and absorb a hit to be taken seriously. Still he missed his companionship with women. He missed the warmth of Maria’s hug, Liz’s sharp tongue that never failed to make him laugh. The way he used to feel understood, at least a little, for the first time in his life.

Coming home to them (and Michael), it was as if nothing had changed. A decade didn’t dull who they’d been to each other. Alex didn’t know if it was them, or this town, but they were connected. They were family.

Or they had been, but now there was a space between them, and he couldn’t get past it. He’d lost all three of the people he’d love most in one fell swoop. He vaguely wondered if there was something poetic in that. He’d run away to learn to be himself and lost the people who accepted him wholly for who he was in the process.

Maybe it would be easier if there had been some big scene, angry words and spilled drinks. Instead it was Michael and Maria holding hands, Liz begging him with her eyes not to make her choose. That in itself was a choice wasn’t it?

He’d made his own choice a decade ago and they had made theirs a little over three weeks ago. One thing Alex had to learn quickly was how to drink alone. To be fair he was getting pretty good at it, practice makes perfect. He had Kyle back, sort of, but there was still the bravado Alex felt he needed around his old friend. Maybe they’d buried the hatchet but scars run deep, and habits can be hard to break.

He’d planned his Saturday sitting on his porch, drinking some beer and wallowing in his own self pity. It was the only reason he was buying alcohol at 10am, most of the town still asleep or avoiding the heat. The last person he expected to run into, sunglasses hiding her face and two bottles of red tucked under her arm was Isobel. 

He couldn’t really remember ever having a conversation with her. He knew how much she meant to Michael, but did she know what Michael had meant to Alex? It was better not to think about it. Instead he nodded her way and attempted to side step around her in the aisle. It appeared she had other plans.

“You look more pathetic than I feel, and that’s saying something.” It stopped him in his tracks, had him turning slowly to take her in. She slid her large glasses up onto her forehead, her eyes were red but there wasn’t a hint of sadness in them. No, he saw what could only be described as understanding, maybe even fellowship and a hint of something else. Something he recognized.

Barely contained rage.

He didn’t know how to respond to that. She was a hard one to read, perfect facade that had all come crashing down. He didn’t feel like his pain could even hold a candle to hers. Maybe she’d been an uppity bitch back in high school, head held high to balance her prom queen crown but she wasn’t that person anymore. No one deserved what Noah has done to her, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

It was painful enough losing someone’s love, but learning you never had it to begin with? That was anguish.

He turned away and went to the cooler, hoisting the case of beer under his arm. He also snagged a bottle of tequila as he headed to the register. He didn’t see Isobel anywhere, hoped she found whatever she was looking for at the bottom of her bottle. Alex had yet to find answers in the bottom of his.

Instead he found her leaning against his Jeep, bags on the ground at her feet. She had her hips pushed out, braced for a fight. Alex, meanwhile, wasn't looking for one.

“I need a ride home.” It wasn’t a request but a command, and last Alex checked she wasn’t his superior officer, even if she had a sneer like one.

“And that’s your vehicle located northwest, you know, across the street.” It was early so there was no limit to his stride as he made his way closer.

He watched Isobel’s veneer slip, the swagger that was so much like Michael it made him ache disappeared.

“He bought it for me, I just realized. Anniversary gift. I never want to drive it again.” She said it like that was a good enough answer and for Alex it sure as hell was. Instead he jerked his head as he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked his passenger door and opened it for her. He was still a gentleman, and he wasn’t above simple kindness.

She climbed in, but put a hand on his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alex almost laughed.

“Neither do I.”

She nodded her understanding, they both had some broken hearts beating simply to pump the anger through their veins. Analyzing that fact wasn’t going to change it. Instead he shut her door with a click and made his way around to his own side.

They drove in relative silence, every corner causing the bottles at Isobel’s feet to clank and rattle. He knew where she lived, Isobel had been made for suburbia, even if she was from another planet altogether.

He pulled into her drive and shut off his car.

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure how safely we’d get here, you being down a limb and all.” 

This time Alex did laugh, because Isobel didn’t wear kid gloves around him and dammit if he didn’t enjoy that. It was nice for someone to look at him with something other than pity.

“Come on. We’ll be less pathetic if we get wasted together.”

The inside of her house was just as one would imagine, modern furniture, tasteful art and a large pile of men’s clothes heaped in the middle of the living room. Isobel flicked her hand at the mound as she headed for her kitchen, “Help yourself.”

Alex turned his nose up at the idea of cast offs from a serial killer and followed Isobel into the kitchen. He placed his bottle of tequila down on the counter. She handed him a corkscrew and he got to opening a bottle while she grabbed large wine glasses and a cutting board. He poured them each a glass as she cut up cheese and grabbed a package of crackers.

He blinked at her as she rolled her eyes, “We can be civilized about it.” She balanced the board on her hand as if she’d been serving patrons her entire life and grabbed her glass. Alex followed her again, wondered for a second if he would always be just two steps behind an alien when it came to living his life when she surprised him. She slid her patio door open and took a sip from glass. 

“After you.”

********

“What was it like?” 

“What was what like?”

“Seeing the world?”

“I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. I saw sand and death and children going hungry. Sorry I didn’t send any postcards.” Alex leaned forward to refill Isobel’s glass.

“Don’t be, Roswell has never been worth the postage.”

He touched his glass to hers in agreement.

**********

“Admit it, you like this song!” Isobel twirled as she shouted, pop music thumping so hard Alex should be annoyed. Instead he laughs as she swished her imaginary skirt, shooting him a come hither look. 

He just shakes his head and leans back, but he gives in eventually and sings along. Even holds out his hand and lets her grasp it as she dances around him.

*********

Letting an intoxicated Isobel paint his nails sparkly black was not Alex’s wisest decision. Then again, also not his worst.

“Hey, I’m doing a good job.” She sticks out her tongue as she steadies her hand and does one final stroke. “Ta-da!”

She blows on his fingertips, and passes him the bottle. “Now do mine!”

Naturally he does a better job than she did.

*********

Alex isn’t sure how he ended up on the floor, but Isobel had tossed him some cushions and he’s shaded from the setting sun. He’s comfortable and relaxed, and holding a glass of tequila and ice to his forehead.

“I envied you in high school.” Isobel is using Alex’s good leg as a headrest. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him, happy being in his space, wanting to be there. Well he did, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“Sure. Gay emo kid with an abusive father, what’s not to love?” There is no bitterness in his voice though, you can only be angry about the past for so long. Also his buzz is making everything easier to bear. “I wish I could have walked down the halls flipping my blonde hair.

“Fuck you. I didn’t walk, I strutted.”

*********

Somehow they’d ended up in the living room, each with a pair of scissors, cutting up Noah’s expensive suits. Alex wasn’t sure they should be using such sharp objects, but then again, he’d done a good job cutting out a star in a cashmere sweater.

“Should I feel bad that I could have donated these? I mean, there are people in need.” She sounded sincere but the swish of her scissor blades doesn’t stop. “But I don’t know if Tide gets out murderous alien germs.”

He hears her sniff and glances up, but her face is set hard. He lets her have that one.

“Or, we could burn the lot.” He likes the idea, is a little proud of it. 

Isobel’s smile is slow and menacing, “I have marshmallows.”

*********

His fingers are sticky and his stomach hurts from laughing as he watches Isobel try to lean out of her chair to grasp her drink. She’s going to fall and for some reason it’s ridiculous. The whole day has been.

She sits up and pouts.

“Come on, you have ET powers on your side. You got this, Evans.”

It takes a few minutes and her face gets flat and serious. Then the glass skitters across the pavement to bang against the leg of her chair. 

She picks it up with a flourish, all he can do is applaud.

********

“No, you have to shoot, use the A button!” Isobel is useless at this and he’s willing to sacrifice her to the cause. Leave no man behind doesn’t count when they’re this bad.

“Which one is A?”

“The one with an A on it! Dammit!” The screen goes red, they’re both dead. Alex drops his controller and drinks straight from the bottle. All sense of propriety went out the window around 2am, so he holds it her way so she can take a sip. 

She can handle her liquor better than most of the men he served with. He’ll never tell her that though.

*********

“You know you could use your mind meld skills to get someone to bring us pizza.” The fact that Roswell doesn’t have a take out place open past 11:00pm is the greatest shame of the century.

“Or I could use my mind meld skills to get you to grab the Pop Tarts out the freezer.”

“You keep your Pop Tarts in the freezer?”

“You’ve never had a frozen Pop Tart?!” When he shakes his head she scrambles off the sofa, nearly trips over her own feet. “I am about to rock your world.”

It’s no blow job from Michael Guerin but it’s a close second.

********

Alex isn’t sure if it’s the pounding on the door or the pounding inside his head that wakes him up. He could do without both, and a healthy does of H20. He feels legs tangled with his own, knows they must have passed out head to toe on Isobel’s large sectional. He realizes he hadn’t removed his prosthetic and that is going to hurt later. Instead he wiggles his socked foot in Isobel’s face. It’s her house, he’s not answering the door.

Also if he gets up he just might die.

She squirms but it’s too little too late when the door bangs open and her brothers storm in with their girlfriends hot on their heels.

He hears Max’s huff and Maria’s laugh but they’re both drowned out by an unimpressed, “What the actual fuck?!”

Great. Michael’s here.

Isobel wraps her arms around Alex’s leg and snuggles into it. So it looks like she’s leaving him to deal with the Alien scout patrol.

“I repeat, what the fuck?”

Alex finally opens his eyes and is met with Michael’s hard and unimpressed stare. As if he has a commodity on messy hangovers or something. He kicks his foot again and Isobel huffs, but it’s enough to get her sitting up, hand pressed to her forehead.

She pushes Alex’s legs so he has no choice but to follow suit.

“You snore, Manes.”

“I know.” Michael says it before Alex can, the silence afterwards almost deafening. Max coughs and Alex shoots Isobel a look. It results in them bursting into giggles and leaning into each other on the sofa. To be fair, Alex's not sure how either of them are semi upright at this point anyway. No one else seems to get the joke.

“They’re okay guys, maybe we should let them sleep it off.” Liz is smiling but also glancing between Maria and Michael. There’s an issue there but it’s none of Alex’s business, just like he is none of their’s.

“You don’t answer our calls and Max finds your car deserted in town. We’re worried sick and you’re here passed out with him.” Michael isn’t letting this go and Alex almost stands up, squaring for a fight. Isobel puts a hand on his knee to stop him.

“It’s called a bender Michael, you of all people should understand that.” She attempts to rise and makes it halfway before she falls back, half in Alex’s lap. He catches her and rights her again. She pats the top of his head in thanks.

“Water?” Isobel is ignoring everyone else, Alex is keen on the idea.

“God, yes please.”

Alex leans back into the sofa and rubs at his temples. He can feel Michael’s frustrated gaze on him, even more so when Isobel hands him a cold bottle. He opens it, reaches out to tap it against hers and downs the whole thing in one go. 

No one is saying anything and Alex isn’t about to be the first. Last he checked he and Isobel were adults, but the eyes Liz is making at Max don’t seem to be doing the job.

“So, I’m alive, we’re alive. Any other questions or is the interrogation over?” Isobel seems revived by the water and the weight of Michael’s disapproving eyes. No one says anything. “Great.”

She leans down, grabs Alex’s hand to help haul him to his feet. Somehow his leg is working and he’s not limping. He’s starting to wonder if this is all a weird fever dream. Then Isobel tucks her arm into his and leads him to the door and past the army of interlopers.

“You owe me one.” It’s whispered as she presses her cheek to his in a mock kiss, like they’re high society and didn’t murder three bottles of wine and all the tequila that didn’t end up on the kitchen floor.

He thinks he might love her. Platonically but reverently, and the twinkle in her eye leads him to believe he’s not alone. 

“Until Saturday, Ma’am.” He gives her a smile and a tiny salute, which became a thing last night, though for the life of him he can’t remember how.

“Of course, I’ll bring the limes and the hot sauce. Now run while you can.” She shoots him a wink and he makes his escape. The last thing he hears as the door shuts is Michael’s frustrated shout of, “What the hell is Saturday?”

Alex swings his keys around his finger and heads for his Jeep.

After a much needed shower and something greasy to settle his stomach he crawls into his own bed. As he lays there his phone beeps twice.

One is a message from an unknown number that says, “It's unfair this polish looks better on you than me.” He saves the number under the name Interstellar Bitch and makes a mental note to show Isobel later on. She’ll get a kick out of it.

The second is from Michael that’s four simple words, “We need to talk.”

He only replies to one, types out “I know.”

Then he presses his face into his pillow and laughs.


End file.
